


Marmadukes of Hell

by fenrislorsrai, OrdinaryRealities



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang, Dog's siblings leave hell, Dogs, Finding Family, Found Family, Gen, Humor, hellhound POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryRealities/pseuds/OrdinaryRealities
Summary: Five hellhounds who left hell and one demon who came to look for them.
Relationships: Dog & Adam Young (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 56
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	1. Dog

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if I've said anything ignorant, it was accidental, and does not come from a place of malice. Please explain it to me if you've got the capacity, so that I don't go around repeating my mistakes.
> 
> Huge, huge thank you to Do It With Style Events for organizing this and to [Fenris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai) ([Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/fenris_lorsrai), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fenrislorsrai), [Tumblr](https://fenrislorsrai.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/honorahoneill/)) for the galaxy-brained idea and fantastic art.

Now people might not realize, but holy days are an especially busy time for demons. Especially at the end of the year, when demons are trying to fit those last-minute quotas in, tempting people to skip those extra trips to church can be, well, _tempting_. For those demons who might slack off a little bit more than they can make up at the end of the year, it’s essential to start off the following year with a will. 

So it was that the year after the world didn’t end, early in the morning on Shrove Tuesday, four young hellhounds found the door to their kennel left ajar by a demon in a hurry to catch up on some temptations.

As any dog-shaped creature might, these four hellhounds nosed open the door and trotted down the hall, tongues and tails waving. Perhaps Dagon glanced out of the file room after the click of their toenails on the concrete, but they had already whisked around the corner, and all that was left to see was a silent hallway.

There had been five of them in the litter. The biggest and meanest and most demonic of them all had been pulled aside for a special assignment on Earth. Their handler had told them that they should be proud, and that it was an honor, and that they would be reunited with their sibling soon, and then nothing.

Now, they all turned unerringly towards a small village in southern England, home to a boy who used to be the Antichrist, and, more importantly, to a nondescript terrier who used to be a hellhound.

1  
Dog was out with his Master in the woods that day. It was a windy day, the cold stealing into his fur and ruffling through it, and as is common in small-dog-shaped beings, it made him a little wild. 

His Master and his Master’s friends were equally feral that day, and the whole group of them bounded through the woods together chasing each other (perhaps Dog did slightly more pure chasing than the others). 

His Master whooped and slapped a hand onto the shoulder of one of his friends, Dog yapping at his heels, and then turned and fled. His friend flew after him, rain boots squeaking, before turning and clapping another friend on the shoulder. She turned and flew away before he could follow, and he paused to resettle his glasses before taking off after them. 

Dog’s Master flew into the trees, still giggling, Dog yapping around his ankles. He turned and raised a finger to his lips as they careened into the brambles. 

“Shh! Quiet now, Dog. Don’t give our position away.”

Dog wagged his stumpy tail. There were some things that were impossible to do as a small dog, and standing perfectly still was one of them. (Dog was aware, in a vague sort of way, that he was constantly becoming more and more of a small dog and less and less of a hellhound, but being a small dog, in addition to being much easier in this body, was so much more entertaining. Besides that, it made his Master happy.) Dog’s entire body was wagging with the effort of standing still. 

His Master stood, finger on his lips, and then darted off into the underbrush as his friends crashed into the woods. Dog yapped gleefully and arced away from them, off into the woods alone.

Dog skittered sideways into a gully and turned to gallop up the other side, nearly careening right into four full-sized hellhounds standing staring at the top. 

There are two options that all small dogs pick between when they encounter large dogs, even if those large dogs happen to be their littermates and also they happen to be a hellhound merely wearing the shape of a small dog. Dog’s Master didn’t like him to bite, so he tended to pick the other option.

Dog bowed his front end down into the leaves, wiggled his butt in the air, and yapped.

  
[Full size: MarmaDukes of Hell (original 13"X 17")](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/MarmaDukesOfHell_web.jpg)

The cluster of hellhounds stared at him.

Dog darted in and then bounded away before pausing to glance over his shoulder. 

The hellhounds continued to stare. 

Dog yapped again, darted in close enough to bounce off the largest (the largest one left; Dog had used to be the largest of the lot) and then darted away again. This time, although he paused again at a reasonable distance, he kept going. 

Just as Dog was about to give up, he heard a deep bark behind him. It was all the warning he had before at least one of his siblings dove into the gully behind him and gave chase in a flurry of limbs and leaves and legs.

Dog skittered gleefully through the dead leaves and then a mud puddle. On the other side of the puddle, he stopped and turned. Four hellhounds slid into the mud as they stopped. Dog yapped again and dove back through the mud, chasing them. 

The whole litter of them stopped at the voice of Dog’s Master. 

“Dog!” His Master was scolding him. “Dog, come here. You can’t chase other people’s dogs. Remember how mad RP Tyler got?” 

Dog tucked his tail and returned to his master’s side. 

His siblings stood and watched until Dog’s Master waved a hand at them. “Go on! Go home!”

The hellhounds stood a moment longer. The largest of Dog’s siblings was the first to turn, sniffing the air. The others swung their heads uncertainly before all four of them trotted off in different directions. (Home was a complicated concept for hellhounds on their first excursion.)

Dog followed his Master, later that night, into the bedroom that his Master’s father had given up trying to keep him out of. Dog curled onto the bed and propped his chin on his Master’s shin, the better to see out the window, and drifted off into a comfortable nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was interested in the plants in the art or wanted to know how awesome Fenris is, they made a list of plants! Background flowers for February in Tadfield:
> 
> Gorse (yellow foreground)  
> snowbells (white, green foliage)  
> musk storks-bill (purplish)  
> stinking hellebore (whiteish, reddish foliage)  
> goat willow/ pussy willow (white, background tree)
> 
> As always, feel free to follow me on tumblr at writingordinaryrealities or @naryreal2 on twitter, where I have yet to figure out what one does with a twitter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Scooby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hellhound goes to church.

2  
One of the hellhounds had acquired a hunting cap somewhere. It perched between the beast’s ears incongruously, the way a leprechaun hat might sit on a donkey.

  
[Scooby is wearing his thinking hat](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/hellhoundhat.png)

This hellhound was the one who ran back towards the town square, and _listened_. “Home,” the former antichrist had told them. “Go home.” 

This hellhound was of an analytical nature, being neither as brawny as the largest of them nor as imposing as the most demonic-looking. This was the hound who had noticed that the gate was unlatched. 

As the hellhound trotted through the town, it heard two voices through the window of the church refectory. 

“… don’t know what we’re going to do!” It was a high, querulous sort of voice, the type whose owner tended to say things like, “When I was a boy…” and “I believe you’ll _actually_ find…”. It was the voice of someone comfortable in their ability to be right, and the concurrent willingness to be wrong or unsure. “Who would steal the church roof fund?”

The second voice was lower and laid more emphasis in its every syllable. “It’s terrible! The church opens its doors to the tired and the lonely; It’s a home for every lost soul, and then we get repaid like this?”

The hellhound hesitated. There was an uncomfortable feeling about the land surrounding the building, like whatever souls were welcome there, souls belonging to hell could find another home.

A third voice spoke. “Hey, look at you with your mystery cap. Come here, boy!” This person’s voice was authoritative. 

The hellhound noted, bemused, that its tail was waving tentatively. 

“Come on! Scooby-doo! It’s OK, boy. The church is for everybody, even wanderers like you.” The human slouched and extended a hand. 

The newly named Scooby-doo darted forward, a shiver going down his spine as he crossed the edge of the church property. 

Scooby-doo came to a halt in front of the human and wagged his tail again, less a hellhound than he had been a moment before. The human leaned down and ran a hand along his back. 

“We’ll need to feed you up if you’re going to be a proper church dog, won’t we? Come on in, Scooby.” The human dropped the butt of its cigarette and stepped on it before opening the door to the church and waiting. 

Scooby let out a huff (another thing he’d never felt the need to do before that day) and stepped through the door into the dark of the church. Another shiver ran down his spine. 

The human let the door fall shut behind them. “Check out what the cat dragged in, you two. He’s a regular Sherlock Holmes. I’m calling him Scooby. Look at his hat.”

“Candice.” The second voice belonged to a much taller human than the one who had named Scooby. “Candice, you can’t name someone else’s dog.”

Candice shrugged. “I’ll post a picture on the church website, but I bet no one owns him. Look how skinny he is.” 

Scooby hadn’t expected it to be nice, having humans running their hands up and down his spine. His tail began to wag again. (Perhaps Candice could be trained, with some patience. Of the three demons who had fed the hellhounds, one had been trainable. Scooby had trained him to spread their meals out enough for all four hellhounds to eat at once. No matter how patient he had been with the other two, they were too slow to learn. If Candice could be trained to tickle her fingertips down his spine or to rub the loose skin on his neck, as she was doing now, that would be acceptable.)

The other occupant of the office was old. Not in the way of some of the demons of hell, but still far older than Scooby himself, or the other occupants of the office. The man leaned back and studied the dog.

“What do you think, Mr. Holmes? Would you like to become a dog of the cloth?”

Scooby was distracted by a rustling in the eaves. 

The squirrels were getting into something. Scooby could hear them rustling and chittering among themselves. 

By the time the noise died down, Scooby had slumped against Candice, who was rubbing his ears. He lifted a leg to scratch at his side, and then was distracted again by another noise from above. 

The humans noticed it too. 

The younger man scrambled to his feet. “It’s the ghost!” 

The older man flapped a hand at him. “Where are ghosts in Christian doctrine? Calm down. _I_ don’t hear anything.”

“I hear it too, Minister,” Candice said, and stood, keeping one hand on Scooby’s neck. Scooby crept into the hall. He could hear the thudding above them. He turned and darted up a convenient stair. 

At the top of the staircase was a window, left half-open in spite of the chill. Just visible on one side of the window was a can.

Scooby reached the top of the stairs just in time to watch a squirrel pull its head out of the can, leaves of paper in its grubby little paws, and patter across the roof. The humans caught up as he was frantically trying to fit his head through the window. Candice wrapped her arms around his belly and tugged him back while the other two moved forward. The younger man reached through the opening to the tin can. He turned back to the other humans with a frown. 

“Is John around today?” 

The older man frowned. “John spent his whole life serving this community. Are you trying to suggest that _he_ would have-” He stopped abruptly when the younger man thrust the can under his nose.

“Who else has gone barmy enough to stash an empty tin can in the thatch and forget to close the window? The only question is, what did he do with the money?”

As he spoke he lifted the window, preparatory to leaning out to check in the thatch. In the same moment, a squirrel skittered into view.

Scooby lunged out of Candice’s hold and through the window, barking wildly. The roof was slanted so far that Scooby had to sit just outside the window to avoid falling off of it. The squirrel was diving over the edge closest to the church itself, and Scooby bounded carefully after it. Two pairs of arms slung themselves around his chest just before he reached the edge. Candice flopped across him and onto the roof. 

“Right, the first thing we are doing when you get back inside is buying you a _collar_.” 

Scooby felt her whole body tense up where it lay across him. 

“No. No, Peter, this is unbelievable. Peter, come here.”

The younger man spoke from where he knelt on Scooby’s other side. “I _am_ here.” He didn’t sound especially happy about it.

“No. No, Peter, right here. Tell me my eyes aren’t making this up.”

The man groaned and pushed himself to his feet. “Making _what_ u- Oh. Oh good Lord.” He sighed. “I’m going to be made to apologize to John for making assumptions, aren’t I?” He raised his voice. “Your goshdarn squirrels in the roof stole the roof fund, Minister! Apparently they don’t want to be evicted!”

Later, once Scooby had been bundled back in off the roof and the window had been shut and a ladder had been brought round to reclaim the fund, Candice cuddled the (former?) hellhound. 

“Tomorrow we’ll get you a collar and a dog bed, and a visit to the vet. Unless somebody shows up to claim you, this is your home now.”

Scooby turned around (three times just felt _right_ ) and lay down at her feet.

  
[Squirrel thief!](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/squirrel.png)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm going to try to get the next chapter up on Tuesday or Wednesday!


	3. Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hellhound joins a rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only a day later than I said I was going to be? The next chapter should be up sometime this weekend, probably.

3  
The hellhound trotted along beside the road. Cars had been passing it all afternoon. The wind blew and ruffled the hellhound’s short fur. 

It was nearly dusk when a car pulled up beside the hellhound.

The hellhound paused to watch as a human stepped out of the car. 

“Well, you certainly aren’t a goat.”

The wind ran cold fingers along the hellhound’s side again and it shivered.

“Still need a warm place out of the wind though, don’t you, Little Bird? Tell you what, hop into the car, and as long as you don’t eat any of the other residents, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

The hellhound studied the open car door before jumping in. The human opened a crack in the car as they picked up speed. 

The hellhound was surprised to find its head tilting up into the thin stream of wind automatically. No less concerning, a moment later its tail began to thump into the seat. 

“That’s a good dog, Little Bird. We’re almost home.”

Little Bird, mildly disgusted with itself, huffed. 

The hellhound scrambled out of the car as soon as the human opened the door, only to stop as it was confronted with a mess of creatures in front of it. There were at least a dozen ducklings and a grunting baby hedgehog. A goose hissed in a corner, one wing wrapped in cloth, and a badger grunted to itself near the door. 

The human clapped its hands together once. “Alright, calm down, who needs dinner?” Added, turning to the dog, “They can’t get used to me, but I bet the wood ducks could use some cuddling, if you don’t mind me putting you to work. What do you say, Little Bird?”

Little Bird, to its own bemusement, huffed and turned towards the assembled avians. The wood ducklings were a peeping cluster huddled beside a hare with a cast on its leg. It gave the hellhound a wary look and hopped away. 

The human’s hand dropped onto Little Bird’s head and rubbed one ear. “It’s alright, honey. That’s a wild animal. They can’t go around trusting the likes of you and me.”

Little Bird huffed again and dropped onto the floor beside the ducklings.

The first duckling announced itself with an urgent series of peeps and scrabbling nails against Little Bird’s skin. Its flat feet came to rest atop Little Bird’s spine, wrapping loosely across the curve of it. Its littermates joined it a moment later, running up Little Bird’s legs in a storm of peeping and then settling slowly along the hellhound’s spine. 

Little Bird lay very still.

The human turned and began shoving dried grass into one area and dropping seeds into another. By the time the buckets of water had been dumped out, only to be refilled with more water, the first duckling had grown bold again and was wobbling its web-footed way up the hellhound’s neck. 

When it caught a nail as it slid back down, Little Bird decided that was enough. The ducklings slid down as the hellhound got slowly to its feet. 

The human’s back was still turned. 

Little Bird sighed and, since lying down could only mean that the ducklings would line themselves back up along its spine, began following the human as it walked up and down in front of the animals. Little Bird ignored the peeping behind it until the human turned, looked, and laughed. 

“Look at that, Little Bird! I think you’ve been adopted.”

  
[They're following me!](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/littlebird.png)

Little Bird glanced back at the line of ducklings and gave a yawning whine at the human. (It wasn’t a sound Little Bird had ever had cause to make before, but something about the shape it was wearing or the circumstance it had found itself in suggested the noise.)

The human laughed. “Just babysit them for another minute, please. I just need to change the dressing on this fawn and then I’ll get them some fresh water.”

Little Bird huffed and turned to examine more closely the other animals. 

There was a goose with its head tucked under a carefully bandaged wing, a pair of fawns sucking on a bucket with their tails pumping busily, and the hare, half-hidden on a shelf.

Four fox kits were play-wrestling much like Little Bird and its siblings had used to do. One squeaked and another one grabbed a third kit’s ear and tugged. Little Bird moved on.

There was a small round thing, like a rock, but also… Little Bird dropped its nose to sniff and say hello and the animal curled up. Little Bird jumped back. Animals weren’t supposed to be _prickly_. The hellhound let out a sadder whine than the last one and the human turned to look and laughed again. 

“Alright, you’re OK, Little Bird. I guess you’ve never met a hedgehog yet, huh? It’s OK, it’s just a little bit scared of you. You’re a lot bigger than a hedgehog, you know?”

Little Bird huffed, glanced around to make sure that the ducklings were out of the way, and flopped over on its side, the better to announce how sad it was. 

The human turned and crouched to run a hand up and down Little Bird’s belly, gently. As Little Bird relaxed, the claws of little duck feet scrabbled against its spine once more. Little Bird sighed and allowed its eyes to droop closed. 

One of its new friends walked right up to its ear and peeped before settling down on Little Bird’s neck. Another slid down one of Little Bird’s legs and then scrambled back up it. Several of them clustered onto Little Bird’s shoulder blade. Little Bird wondered if the other hellhounds had discovered homes this friendly.


	4. Crisps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hellhound peers in a window.

4  
The most demonic-looking of the hellhounds had a difficult afternoon. The Tadfield residents looked uncomfortable each time the hellhound tried to approach. Uncomfortable at best. One person screamed. Another picked up a stick, looking wary. 

This hellhound was quite certain that home was supposed to involve other beings. It wasn’t sure exactly how one accomplished that. 

The hellhound paced through the streets of the little town, keeping an eye on the passersby as they nervously moved away. 

A rustle from an open window caught the hellhound’s attention. It trotted across the lawn of the house in question. The weather was still brisk enough out that most of the surrounding houses were shut up tight. Another rustle came from inside the house, followed by a muttered curse, and the hellhound propped its paws against the door to check what might be inside. 

An older human was struggling with a bag. As the hellhound watched, it crinkled again.

“Oh, for the love of-” The person turned and spotted the hellhound.

  
[hewwo](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/hewwo.jpg)

“Well, look at you. Crisps? Give it a minute, let me find the scissors. I tell, you, they make bags these days secure enough to keep nuclear codes in them. The grandchildren came by today…” The human trailed off as it wandered into another room. “They always make the scissors disappear. You know how it is.” The human raised its voice as it spoke the last few words.

The hellhound hesitated, then dropped to its haunches and waited. The human was opening drawers in another room. Finally, it shuffled back into the room by the window. The hellhound popped back up to peer back in the window. The human had the bag in its hand. It shuffled towards the window and leaned across the sofa to push the screen up. 

“Crisps?”

The human’s face abruptly dropped out of the window.

The hellhound dropped back to all fours, then sprang neatly through the open space where the screen had been.

The human was lying on the sofa. It blinked at Crisps. 

“Look at you. What a helpful girl you are. Not to worry, I’ve just gone a bit wobbly in my old age. See though,” – The human patted the sofa – “I found somewhere soft to fall. Always do, you know.”

Crisps snuffled at the floor where something smelled greasy and salty and utterly unlike anything the hellhound had tasted before. (How many snack foods can a hellhound eat without changing its nature?) When the human wobbled as it rose back to its feet, Crisps swung her hind end so that her spine was convenient for hands searching for something steady. 

The human barely weighed anything. It stood on its own again a moment later and sighed. 

“Oh dear, I’ve spilled- Oh! Oh, what a clever girl you are, dear. Oh, I do appreciate that. The cleaning lady doesn’t come until Thursday.” The human picked up the bag from the edge of the sofa and shuffled over to a bookshelf. Crisps lifted her head and checked the sofa for any overlooked greasy flakes before joining the human, who was now puttering around and through the shelves. 

The human reached over and rubbed Crisps’ ear. “What a lovely dog you are. I wonder how you got out. My friend used to have a dog like you. For stability, you know. She didn’t like to talk about it until we had to put George down, and then she was in the wheelchair anyway, you know, so she had no choice. Some sort of mobility issue. I never asked, because everyone else did, and what mattered most was how I could help, not what it was. Then she was gone. I’ve still got George’s vest tucked away in a drawer somewhere. I expect it might fit you.” A surprisingly sharp look was leveled at Crisps. “Unless you wanted to bounce out of my life as fast as you bounced into it.”

Crisps immediately sat, her entire side against the human’s leg. Her tail began to thump without Crisps’ say so.

The human was still rubbing Crisps’ ear. “You are a lovely girl. I suppose I should put up some signs and make sure no one else is missing you. A treasure like you, someone must be, don’t you think?” 

The human shuffled back towards the door and Crisps stepped up on its left side just as it began to tip sideways. Its hand landed on Crisps’ back and then moved up to rub the back of her neck once the human had steadied itself. 

“What a good dog. Someone must be missing you. Where did I put those crisps? You’ll want one, won’t you, as a treat? Probably some meat would be better for you. Some nice chicken maybe. I’ll have to call my nephew. He’ll pop by with something for you and his children – they’re the grandchildren, you see, since I haven’t any of my own – they’ll make a nice sign for you and put it up around town.”

Crisps cocked her head and listened and watched as the human made it to the kitchen table and sat down. 

“Hello? Peter, don’t you ‘Susan’ me. That’s better. Listen, I thought of something I need from the shops, have you gone yet? The little one said she was popping out later today and could bring something- when you’re my age, twenty-two is still plenty young enough to be the little one, thank you. Yes, some chicken, please. I know I’m a vegetarian. It’s not for me. I’m old, but I’ve not got dementia yet. Alright, and also if I can make this thing take a picture would you make some signs for a lost dog I’ve found? Alright- No. No, if no one comes forward I’m keeping her. She’s a sweet thing. Popped right in when I tripped onto the sofa, and then- Well, that’s why I’m asking you to put up posters. I’m not handing her over to someone to get put down. Well, I’m still not. Thank you. Quite. I’ll see you later then.”

The human dropped the square on the table and cupped a hand on each side of Crisps’ face, thumbs rubbing at Crisps’ ears. 

Crisps groaned and leaned her head first into one thumb and then the other. Her tail had decided to wag against the floor again.

"Right then." The human sounded more chipper already. "How about some crisps?"

  
[Do you need help with that?](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/service.jpg)

The human continued to rub. “We’re going to get along just fine, aren’t we, love?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next chapter will be out later this week!


	5. Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hellhound meets a child.

The last of the hellhounds – the largest of the hellhounds – trotted across the field away from the trees and their sibling’s Master and the town full of people. This way there was just the sky and the breeze and an open field. It kept trotting, nose tilted up into the wind. 

When it came to a road, it crossed it instead of following the pavement. Maybe home required other beings, but perhaps it didn’t. At the third road, the hellhound turned to face a car that growled as it approached. It waited until the car squealed to a halt and a human stuck its head out to yell at the hellhound. The hellhound stood a moment longer before continuing, satisfied that the car _was_ stopping.

The hellhound trotted along past houses and fields, keeping up a steady pace. It didn’t stop again until a young human shrieked somewhere nearby. 

The hellhound stopped so quickly that it nearly sat down. The shrieking human was nowhere in sight.

“She is loud, isn’t she?” The human who spoke was short – shorter even the boy who used to be the Antichrist – but it was seated on a wall peacefully. “It’s not her fault though. She’s only little, and they _claim_ that she’s getting better.” It pulled a face. “It’s only, she screams _all the time_.”

The hellhound sat with a thump. The human studied it. 

“Would you like to stay with us?” It climbed off the wall. On the ground, it barely came up as high as the hellhound’s shoulder. “The baby is loud, but she’ll get quieter. And it was my birthday last week, and you’re supposed to get what you want for your birthday, but I asked for a pony and I didn’t get one, but you’re big enough, and I could call you pony and ride you around and-”

The hellhound snuffled the child’s face and the hand the child held out towards it. 

The child beamed. “Aww, Pony, we’re going to be great friends! And we’ll ride around the countryside, and fight for justice and defend the weak…”

Pony huffed out a breath. None of that sounded bad, even if it wasn’t exactly _usual_ for a hellhound. Certainly, more interesting than sitting around Hell waiting for an opportunity to leave. 

The child clambered back onto the wall and beckoned Pony over. “C’mere! Let’s surprise them.”

Pony hesitated, then stepped up alongside the wall obediently. 

The child leaned over and then sat up astride the hellhound. Pony hesitated and took stock. The child wasn’t too heavy, and though its legs were tense against Pony’s sides, they weren’t uncomfortable. It was sitting just behind Pony’s shoulders, where the weight wasn’t a problem, and both of its hands were running up and down Pony’s neck.

  
[MINE NOW!](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/pony.png)

“That’s a good girl. Nice Pony. Shhhh. You’re alright. Whoa there.”

Pony tipped an ear back as her human spoke, then turned her head towards the building as a door opened. 

“Chris? Where are you, Hon- Chris, whose dog is that?”

Pony’s child waved so wildly that it unbalanced itself. Pony stepped sideways to keep her child on her back. 

“Look dad! Look at my dog! Her name is Pony, dad, and she’s going to be my friend!”

Pony turned her head to sniff the child’s boot. 

“I… Chris, honey, the dog probably belongs to someone else. Or it could be sick or something. Please dismount and come back here.”

The child froze. 

Pony sighed.

“She’s not sick! And she’s mine! We can take her to the vet and see if she’s lost, and if she isn’t, we can keep her, right? And I’m going to teach her to jump and to get ridden and, and when I’m big enough for riding lessons then she’ll be Lizzie’s mount, or she can just be our dog. Her name is Pony and she knows it, see?” 

The child pointed at the wall. “Pony, over!”

Pony shook herself and walked through the gate instead. 

The large human sighed. “Thank goodness one of you has some sense. She stays out here tonight. _If_ she is still here in the morning, we’ll get the vet out and post signs. And _if_ no one comes looking, then we’ll see.”

The large human closed the gate behind them as Pony’s human slid off her back.

“You – her name is Pony? – Pony.” The human sighed. “Stay here. I’ll bring you some food and water tonight. Stay in the garden.”

Pony gave the human her best disbelieving look. Like humans had ever been willing to stay politely in gardens. She stepped towards her child and popped her lips in her best approximation of the snorting that horses did.

Her human giggled. 

“See? Father will love her too. Watch.”

The large human sighed. “I know he will. But you do understand-”

“Jack? Did you find Chris?”

The voice sounded distracted. 

“Oh, I sure did. They’re out here adopting lost dogs. We’re going to need to call for a vet appointment tomorrow if it’s still here.”

The door opened. “A dog? Don’t be ridiculous, bring it in. Chris, bring your new friend in. Jack, don’t look like that, that’s what the laundry room is for. We’re perfectly capable of keeping a dog out of the elements without endangering anyone.”

The child set their hand on Pony’s shoulder and led her towards the open door.


	6. The hellhound handler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon rises to earth (and then goes to ground).

+1  
There are very few beings a demon in a pickle can ask for help. Asking its fellow demons will only get it into trouble down the line. Asking anyone else is unlikely to be useful. 

So it was that when the demon who had left the kennel door ajar returned late on Ash Wednesday to find the kennel empty of its charges, it sniffed around Hell for some time before rising to Earth. It didn’t tell a soul. After all, how hard could it be to hunt down four truant hellhounds?

It had never noticed how many _dogs_ there were.

It had estimated how long it could be gone searching before it was discovered. That time was more than halfway over when the demon gave in. There was one being who might have information and who had cut ties with Hell. Decisively. 

The demon was shaking when it knocked at the door of Crowley’s flat. They said that Ligur had been melted _right here_. Had been melted with holy water. (And Crowley was immune to holy water.) 

Crowley wasn’t answering. 

By the time a little old lady puttered up the stairs, the demon had forgotten to be afraid and was knocking to wake the dead.

“Are you looking for Anthony? He’ll be at the bookshop. It’s nice to see his old friends come around. He’s always seemed so alone.”

The demon blinked, and nodded, and allowed the woman to herd it down the stairs and out of the building without much protest. _Anthony_?

It reached out its senses, searching for other demonic beings on the Earth. Suppressed a shiver when Crowley was the only one it could find – _where were those hellhounds_ – and turned towards Soho.

Crowley was sharing some red liquid with the angel Aziraphale when our demon knocked at the bookshop door.

“I’m very sorry, but we’re closed.” The voice didn’t belong to Crowley, which meant that it must belong to his angel. (Was the angel the one who supplied Crowley with the holy water? How did a demon become _immune_? The demon shivered.) 

The door opened while the demon was trying to decide whether to knock again. (There were no other leads. But Beelzebub and Dagon _probably_ wouldn’t throw it in holy water.)

“What are you- They sent _you_ after us? Who did you even piss off?” Crowley frowned at the demon from the doorway.

  
[Please sir, have you seen my dogs?](https://www.rainydaypaperback.com/media/files/AO3/marmadukes/demon.png)

The demon flinched and bowed its head. “Please, I wouldn’t have bothered you, only I need your help. You know how Dagon is.” It glanced up without raising its head. Crowley didn’t look ready to smite it. “Please, I’ve- that is to say…”

Crowley sighed. “Spit it out.”

The demon gulped. “Please, I’ve lost some hellhounds. I can’t find them, can you? Please, help me.”

A voice came from the hall. “Crowley? What’s going on?”

Crowley snorted. “Some poor demon here under the impression that I’m an authority on finding lost hellhounds.” Crowley’s tone wasn’t unkind. “As if I didn’t make an enormous muddle of the last hellhound I lost.” 

The demon watched as Crowley turned back to it. 

“Perhaps you could try Adam. He’s just a boy though. You can’t go knocking on his door in the middle of the night.”

The demon hesitated. “I’m not- I don’t- Sorry, who’s Adam?”

The angel Aziraphale clapped his hands once, briskly. “It sounds like we should drive you, doesn’t it, Crowley. Would you like a biscuit, dear? Come in, you can stay here until it’s a reasonable hour to visit. If I give you a bed, will you sleep? It’ll just take a moment.”

The demon found itself standing, biscuit in hand, not far inside the bookshop while Crowley and the angel argued quietly. 

“That’s a demon.”

“You know it’s the right thing to do.”

“Bugger the right thing to do. If he goes back to Hell and talks…”

“Crowley, dear, let’s not go borrowing trouble. If he does, we’ll figure it out.”

The demon gulped. “Please, I swear, I won’t- I would never- just don’t spray me with holy water.”

Crowley swung around to look at it and smiled. “You won’t say a word about us if you know what’s good for you. Dagon and Beelzebub might torment you,” (“Crowley,” the angel sighed.) “but those torments will come to an end. Holy water would end _you_.”

The demon shuddered.

Crowley looked satisfied. 

Aziraphale gestured at the biscuit. (Rumor had it that hellfire had no effect on the angel Aziraphale. The demon would be helpless if it came to a fight with the other two.)

“Eat. It’s good. Or do you not like ginger? Here, Crowley, did we finish the toffee biscuits yesterday?” 

The demon blinked and nibbled tentatively at the biscuit as it waited. The spice was sharp against its tongue.

Adam turned out to be the former antichrist. His hellhound (what sort of name was ‘Dog’?) studied the demon from behind Adam’s legs as the two of them stood in the garden. (Crowley and Aziraphale had dropped the demon off, pointing to the correct house, and turned back for London. They had left the demon weighed down with biscuits though. The demon couldn’t blame them for being afraid of the antichrist.)

“Do they look like Great Danes?” The antichrist seemed fond of cryptic questions. 

“I… They’re hellhounds?”

“Well, I saw four Great Danes playing with Dog yesterday, but I told them to go home.”

“Well they didn’t.” The demon forgot its fear enough to snap.

The antichrist raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Well, maybe they don’t consider hell their home anymore. _I_ wouldn’t, from everything that Crowley says.” 

He already hadn’t, long before talking to Crowley, if rumor was to be believed. 

“Perhaps you ought to give it a try finding another home too.” The antichrist sounded thoughtful. “It’s nice here. There’s sun, and a breeze, and the creek, or the seaside if you prefer, and ice cream and… Well, you know. I could make it so they didn’t remember you. If you wanted.”

The demon hesitated, but what choice did it really have?

(Later, it would wander across RP Tyler, out giving Shutzi a mid-morning walk. RP Tyler would take one look at the demon in its short sleeves and hurry him home, grumbling about the youth these days and boys running around courting colds and the _letter_ he was going to write, no, you get back here young man, you said you had nowhere to get out of the weather and it’s coming on to rain.)

First though, came Adam, focused on something in the distance and then, terrifyingly, on the demon itself as he said, “You’d better go before my father comes out and sees me talking to you. Go on, go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for joining us for this story. I can't speak for Fenris, but I had a great time writing this, and seeing what they were going to draw for it next. Please go and follow them if you enjoyed the art and the whole concept of this fic. They're super cool, and you definitely won't regret it.
> 
> Thank you again to Do It With Style Events for organizing this.
> 
> And links to follow [Fenris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai) ([Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/fenris_lorsrai), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fenrislorsrai), [Tumblr](https://fenrislorsrai.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/honorahoneill/)) in case you missed them at the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone was interested in the plants in the art or wanted to know how awesome Fenris is, they made a list of plants! Background flowers for February in Tadfield:
> 
> Gorse (yellow foreground)  
> snowbells (white, green foliage)  
> musk storks-bill (purplish)  
> stinking hellebore (whiteish, reddish foliage)  
> goat willow/ pussy willow (white, background tree)
> 
> My tentative plan is to post twice a week until the chapters are all up, but I may go slightly faster or slower depending on how real life goes. 
> 
> As always, feel free to follow me on tumblr at writingordinaryrealities or on twitter at @naryreal2, where I have yet to figure out what one does with a twitter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
